


Blood and Bruises

by DJBunn3



Series: Unknown [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Chatting & Messaging, Concussions, Fear of hospitals, Flashbacks, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 12:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14592945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJBunn3/pseuds/DJBunn3
Summary: Lance returns a minute later, out of breath. “Your dad’s coming,” he pants, leaning against the wall and setting a hand over Keith’s. “He says he’s taking you to the ER.”Keith grits his teeth, balling his free hand into a fist. He can’t go to the hospital--he just can’t. Doesn’t his dad understand that, after everything that happened with his mom? After all the work he’d gone to to repress those memories? Why isn’t he explaining it to them? Keithcan’tgo, doesn’t heknowthat?***(Keith hits his head and has to go to the emergency room. Set the year after Unknown.)





	Blood and Bruises

“Keith, you need to go to the hospital,” Shiro says, dabbing at the cut on Keith’s forehead with a damp cloth. “I can’t patch this up by myself, and the school nurse isn’t on duty right now.”

“No!” Keith snaps, wincing away from him. The room is spinning. “I’m fine. I’m going home.”

“Absolutely not.” Shiro’s tone is firm and cool, but his eyes show concern.

“What can I do?” Lance asks nervously, hovering. He’s been absolutely frantic since Keith slipped and hit his head on his way to the bus stop, and it’s driving him nuts. If his head weren’t throbbing so hard, he’d snap at Lance to shut up for just one minute,  _ please _ .

“Can you call his dad?” Shiro asks, pressing the damp cloth to Keith’s head again. Keith flinches back at the sharp sting, but Shiro’s prosthetic hand holds him firmly in place.

“I don’t know his number,” Lance says helplessly, staring at Keith with wet, worried eyes. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“He should be fine,” Shiro assures him, although he still looks concerned. His eyebrows are drawn together and he doesn’t even glance away from Keith for a second.

“What should we do? Does he need a bandage or medicine or something?

His voice is loud and uneven, grating on Keith’s ears unpleasantly. He tries to shush Lance halfheartedly, but all that comes out of his mouth is a stuttery sigh.

“Keith? Can you talk?” Shiro asks gently. Keith nods, then wishes he hadn’t. The room is spinning even more violently now. Reluctantly, he shakes his head, deliberately slowing the movement so he doesn’t make things even worse.

“I think he’s concussed,” Shiro is saying, his cool demeanor slipping. “If you can’t call his dad, then go to the office and see if they can. And see if the school nurse is still here!”

“Okay,” Lance breathes, glancing between the two of them. “O-Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Keith watches him turn on his heel and sprint out of the room, his mind playing it again in slow motion. He groans as another shockwave of pain crashes through his head, the room growing brighter as he squints against the light. His eyes hurt even when he closes his eyelids.

“Keith, we’re gonna get ahold of your dad,” Shiro says in a quiet, deliberate voice. “But this looks pretty bad. I think you’re gonna have to go to the emergency room.”

“No,” Keith groans, trying to push himself away from Shiro. “No, I-”

“I know, I know,” Shiro assures him, holding him in place even more firmly as he cleans the cut on Keith’s forehead. “But we need to do what’s best for you. As your teacher,  _ I _ need to do what’s best for you.”

“Then don’t let them take me  _ there _ ,” Keith manages to grit out, cracking his eyes open. The look of sympathy on Shiro’s face communicates more than anything he could say, but it’s still not enough.

“Shiro, please…”

“I have to contact your dad,” Shiro explains quietly. “It’s procedure. But after that I’m not responsible for what happens. I don’t want to put you through this, Keith, but it’s not up to me.”

The room lurches, along with Keith’s stomach. He coughs wetly a few times, swallowing down the bile rising in his throat. (He’s not sure if it’s from the head injury or the thought of going to the hospital.) Shiro pats his shoulder sympathetically, his touch gentle and unsettling at the same time.

“You’re a strong kid, Keith,” he says. “You can get through a quick hospital visit.”

Lance returns a minute later, out of breath. “Your dad’s coming,” he pants, leaning against the wall and setting a hand over Keith’s. “He says he’s taking you to the ER.”

Keith grits his teeth, balling his free hand into a fist. He can’t go to the hospital--he just can’t. Doesn’t his dad understand that, after everything that happened with his mom? After all the work he’d gone to to repress those memories? Why isn’t he explaining it to them? Keith  _ can’t _ go, doesn’t he  _ know  _ that?

Lance’s voice is foggy and far-away, like Keith’s submerged underwater and Lance is above him. “Can you hear me, babe? It’s gonna be okay, okay? Hospitals aren’t so bad, they’re just a little intimidating. And they’ll be able to clean up that cut better than the nurse here can, so-”

“Lance, I think he’d appreciate some quiet,” Shiro says, patting Lance on the shoulder. Keith wants to thank him, but he’s too dizzy to do much of anything at the moment. How much time has passed? Is his dad here? Does he have to go?

Lance doesn’t say anything else, choosing instead to play with Keith’s fingers. Keith doesn’t move his hand to intertwine it with Lance--at the moment even a small movement like that is too much effort for him right now--but he makes a sound of appreciation. Lance smiles at him, his eyes watery and mouth wavering (although that could just be Keith’s vision blurring out again).

“Don’t worry,” Keith tries to say, because Lance worrying is just about the last thing he needs right now. He’s already scared enough without his boyfriend’s fear piling on top of his.

“Keith is right,” Shiro agrees, turning his attention to Lance momentarily. “We should all keep calm. The cut’s stopped bleeding for the most part, and he can talk--kind of--which is a good sign.”

“Yeah, of course,” Lance says shakily. “I’m not worried, you know? I’m good. We’re good.”

Keith shoots him a look that he hopes communicates how unconvinced he is. At the very least, Lance’s nervous rambling is turning his fear into annoyance, which is marginally better. Shiro sits with them quietly, every so often coming over to wipe a bit of stray blood from Keith’s brow. The cut on his head stings, and he winces whenever Shiro dabs at it, but Lance holds his hand through it and it’s not so bad anymore.

What feels like a few minutes later, but could be any amount of time for all he knows, the classroom phone rings. Shiro jumps up to get it, leaving Lance and Keith alone near the front of the room.

“How are you doing?” Lance asks quietly. He hasn’t spoken since his nervous rambling trailed off, so his voice comes as a surprise.

“Dizzy,” Keith responds truthfully. “Nauseous.”

“Not scared?”

He hesitates for a second. “Yeah,” he admits finally. “I don’t want to go, Lance.”

“I know,” Lance replies. “I know, honey. But you’ll be okay.”

“Lance…”

“I promise, you’ll be alright. I’ll be with you, if you want me to be.”

Keith pauses to debate this for a second. He doesn’t want Lance to see him when he’s at his weakest--that’s already happened enough in the last year to last him a lifetime. After the pathetic display he put on while they were visiting Florona at Twelfth Sea, he knows Lance knows about his fear of hospitals, but it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing. And Lance doesn’t know  _ why _ he hates hospitals, either, which is a whole nother can of worms that might even send him running for the hills, if he dares ask about it.

At the same time, he doesn’t want to do this alone.

“Keith?” Lance pushes, nudging him slightly. The room spins.

“Come with me,” Keith says hoarsely, gripping Lance’s arm for support. “Please.”

“Of course.”

Shiro nods, sets the phone back in its cradle, then turns back towards them. Keith grits his teeth and holds Lance’s arm even tighter. “Your dad’s in the office,” Shiro says evenly. “We should hurry before your condition gets worse.”

“I’m fine,” Keith protests again, shakily, even though he knows it won’t change any of their minds. Lance stands, pulling away from Keith’s grip gently before offering him a hand.

“The sooner we get there, the sooner it’s over,” he reminds Keith, attempting a gentle smile. “I promise I won’t freak out again in the waiting room. At least, I’ll do my best not to.”

Reluctantly, Keith accepts the hand Shiro holds out to him. When he gets to his feet, the world tips and his stomach twists, and for a few seconds his vision doubles. Lance catches him with an arm around the stomach before he can topple over.

“Yeah, you’re not walking there on your own,” he decides, slinging Keith’s arm over his shoulder and taking most of Keith’s weight on himself.

Keith closes his eyes tightly as they start the long journey to the front office. It’s embarrassing that Lance has to practically carry him through the school, and even more so that his boyfriend probably knows he’s terrified right now. His mind keeps conjuring up images of heart monitors, pristine white beds with mint curtains drawn around them, doctors and nurses with paper masks over their mouths and noses whirring by like it’s programmed into their DNA. His stomach turns again, and he prays that he doesn’t throw up.

“I’ve got you, Keith,” Lance assures him as they turn the corner to the office. He spots his dad almost immediately--he’s pacing back and forth in the hall.

“Keith!” he exclaims when he catches sight of them. “Are you okay?”

_ What a stupid question _ , Keith thinks, squinting at his dad. The trip through the school has him exhausted, but he manages to nod.

“He’s most likely concussed,” Shiro says, addressing his father as if Keith’s not even there. “You said you would be taking him to the emergency room?”

“Yeah, right away. I should text Auxia and let her know what’s going on, too.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Lance says, and if Keith were feeling any better he’d already be making fun of Lance for calling his dad  _ sir _ . “If you don’t mind, I want to come with you.”

Keith’s dad glances at him uncertainly, an eyebrow raised. Keith finds the strength to nod without throwing up all over himself. “Alright,” he agrees after a pause. “If that’s what Keith wants.”

“Thank you,” Lance says, squeezing Keith’s hand. “We already talked about it, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I’ll leave you three to head out, then,” Shiro says, patting Keith on the shoulder. “Good luck, Keith. Hope you feel better soon.”

“Thanks,” Keith croaks, nodding again at Shiro.

“Come on, then,” Keith’s dad says, slinging Keith’s other arm over his shoulder and taking most of the weight from Lance. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

The car ride to the emergency room is tense and silent. Lance sits in the backseat with Keith’s head in his lap, running his fingers through his hair gently and wiping away sweat and blood with his sleeve. “You’re bruising already,” he whispers, gently touching the area around Keith’s cut. Keith groans, batting his boyfriend’s hand away.

By the time they reach the hospital, Keith’s so woozy and disoriented he barely realizes the car has stopped. The sight of the tall stone building sends a new wave of fear and nausea through him, and he closes his eyes and tries to shake his apprehension away.

“You’re going to hurt yourself even more,” Lance says, gently holding Keith’s head in place. His dad turns from the front seat to look at them.

“Do you need a minute, Keith?” he asks softly.  _ So he does remember, _ Keith thinks, shaking his head blearily.

“It’s fine,” he whispers. “We can go.”

Lance opens the door and helps him out of the car, wrapping one arm behind his back. “Come on, buddy,” he says as they make their way towards the emergency room door.

The two of them sit together in the waiting room while Keith’s dad hurriedly explains the situation to the receptionist. Lance finds them one of those loveseat-style chair-benches and sits at the very end, leaving Keith room to lie down again. He wants to close his eyes and drift off into unconsciousness, but the sounds of the office around him keep him alert and afraid. He sees doctors and nurses in sickly green scrubs roaming around, patients being led in and out of different doorways, other people waiting for treatment. One little boy with a cloth pressed to his mouth is sobbing into his father’s shirt, and Keith can see blood dripping down his chin.

He doesn’t blame the kid, honestly. He feels like crying, too.

Keith’s dad comes back a minute later, a clipboard and pen in hand, sitting in the chair beside Lance so he can talk to Keith. “They say it’s a good thing we brought you here when we did,” he says. “There are only a couple of people waiting for treatment before us.”

Keith closes his eyes again, trying to block out the sound of people talking. Images of a white hospital room flash behind his eyelids, a curtain separating him from the person on the other side. He remembers crying the same way the little kid is now, digging his feet into the ground and refusing to move an inch further into the room. His father standing behind him, a hand on his shoulder, whispering  _ “Go on,” _ into his ear.

_ “Keith, baby, is that you?” _

That was all it had taken for him to turn on his heel and run out of the room.

Keith tenses as Lance sets a hand on his back, rubbing gently. “You’ll be okay,” he promises, kissing Keith’s forehead gently.

“Auxia says she’s worried about you,” his dad says, holding up his phone for Keith to see. The bright light hurts his eyes, but he manages to make out Acxa’s message. Strangely, it comforts him.

“How are you holding up?”

Keith shrugs. “I don’t like it here,” he admits, hating how small his voice sounds.

“I know, bud, I know,” his dad sighs, patting his shoulder. “But we have to look out for your health.”

_ Screw my health, _ Keith thinks.  _ It’s my sanity that’s important, isn’t it? _

The crying boy is called into one of the rooms, leaving the three of them left alone in the waiting room. Keith buries his cold hands inside the pockets of his (Lance’s) hoodie and shivers. Hospitals are always cold.

Keith’s dad gets up to turn the papers into the reception area just as the nurse calls Keith’s name. “Is your parent here?” he asks, looking around the room, then back at Keith and Lance.

“He’s right there,” Lance answers for him.

“Are you also part of this family?”

“Er, no. Not technically, anyway.”

The nurse looks sympathetic. “Then I’m afraid you’ll have to wait out here for now.”

“What?” Keith sits up suddenly, then grips onto Lance’s shoulder to keep his balance. “Lance, no, I need you.”

His voice becomes panicky at the thought of going into one of those rooms without Lance, his fear swallowing any semblance of pride he’d managed to hold onto as he reaches shakily for his boyfriend’s hand. “Please, don’t make me go in there alone,” he whimpers, his tone pathetic even to his ears. He doesn’t care. He’d barely managed to stay calm thanks to Lance’s presence in the waiting room. He can’t do this on his own.

“I’m so sorry, Keith,” Lance is murmuring, brushing his bangs out of his eyes and wiping a rogue tear away from his cheek. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Lance,” Keith pleads, his fingers digging into Lance’s sweater. “Don’t leave me.”

Flashbacks of the sickeningly clean room, his footsteps echoing down the halls, the smell of antiseptic in his face, all come rushing back to him. Lance’s hands go to his, prying them away from his chest.

“Honey, you’ve gotta calm down,” he says quietly, glancing around. Keith’s probably making a huge scene and embarrassing everyone, but he can’t help but cling to Lance as if his life depends on it. “Take deep breaths with me, okay, Keith? In and out.”

“I c-can’t go,” Keith stutters, more tears spilling from his eyes.

“Your dad will be right there with you,” Lance assures him, cupping his hands in his face and wiping his tears away. “And I’ll be right out here. You’ve gotta go in so you can get better.”

“Lance-”

“ _ Trust me, _ ” Lance whispers. “You’re gonna get through this. I swear on my life, I wouldn’t ask you to go in if I didn’t know you’d come out okay.”

“I-I know,” Keith agrees, trying to get his breathing under control. “I know,” he says again.

“Good. Now, your dad’s coming back over and you two are gonna go inside,” Lance continues. “They’re just gonna check out your head and see how you’re doing, and then we can go home.”

There’s no way Lance can know that for sure, but somehow his words ease Keith’s nerves a little. They’re not gonna put him in a room and plug an IV into his arm and hook him up to a drip bag and a heart monitor and who-knows-what else. They’re just gonna do a checkup, and then he’s free to go.

Slowly, he pulls away from Lance, standing up from the couch thingie just as his father gets back.

“Everything okay?”

“We have to go in now,” Keith says quietly, his voice small and childlike. “They don’t want Lance inside.”

“We’ll be back out in a little bit, anyway,” his dad replies, taking it in stride. “You’ll feel better, too.”

Keith allows himself to be lead inside, his father’s hand at his back again. The nurse doesn’t seem very bothered by his little breakdown, and even goes so far as to ask if he’s feeling alright, which he hates as much as he appreciates. The nurse checks his eyes, shining lights into each one of them a few times before moving on to the cut on his forehead, asking about his symptoms the entire time. Keith tells him he’s feeling dizzy and nauseous, and that his head hurts and bright lights make his eyes sore and everything seems fuzzy. His eyes dart around the room nervously, hating every square inch of it.

“He fell and hit his head,” his dad explains. “On a bus stop sign, if I’m not mistaken.”

_ Lance must have filled him in over the phone, _ Keith thinks.  _ Of course. _

“Has it affected your hearing at all?” the nurse asks. Keith shrugs.

“Not really… Some stuff was loud, and I had trouble focusing on it,” he says, staring down at his hands.

“And you said you were feeling dizzy?”

“Just when I stand up or move suddenly.”

“Any problems with memory or concentration?”

“No.” He picks at his nails with shaking hands. If Lance were here, he’d hold Keith’s hands in his to stop him.

_ He’s right outside, _ he reminds himself.  _ You’re okay. _

“Have any of your symptoms gotten worse since you hit your head?” the nurse asks, setting the light down.

“Not really,” Keith answers unsurely. He doesn’t know if the dizziness worsening counts, but it’s mostly stayed the same since they left for the hospital, and he wants to get out as soon as possible, so he doesn’t elaborate.

“Thanks for your cooperation, Keith,” the nurse says with a smile, patting Keith’s knee. “I’ll go get the doctor, but I’m sure you’re gonna be fine. You probably won’t need to stay overnight, either.”

Keith blanches. The idea of being held overnight hadn’t even occurred to him until now.

“I won’t let ‘em keep you here, buddy,” his dad promises as the nurse slips out. “We’ll explain the situation to them.”

“Thank you,” Keith croaks, squeezing his hands together. His dad pauses, as if debating if it’s a good idea to say something or not, but ultimately he ends up deciding to.

“So… Have you thought any more about going for a visit?” he asks hesitantly. “Maybe over spring break, or during the summer? We could take Auxia and make a trip out of it.”

“No,” Keith grits out, turning away. Out of all the places for his dad to bring it up, this has to be the worst.

“Then why don’t we try calling again?” his dad offers. “You can hang up if you need to, and we can do it whenever, without making a big deal of it.”

_ But it is a big deal. _ “I can’t,” Keith states again, covering his eyes with his hands. “You know I can’t.”

“I was hoping you could try.”

He shakes his head, unwilling to even consider the idea. “Sorry,” he whispers.

“No, don’t- don’t apologize. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

Keith sighs, trying to block out the ringing in his ears. He doesn’t want to think about visiting his mom, he doesn’t want to be here any longer than he has to, and he definitely doesn’t want to be kept in the hospital overnight. He just wants to go home and lie in the dark, texting his friends and resting.

_ Trust me, _ Lance had said.  _ You’re gonna get through this. _

_ I’m gonna get through this, _ he thinks, forcing himself to open his eyes.

* * *

 

Lance jumps out of his seat as soon as the door opens, rushing over to Keith and grabbing his hands. “Are you okay?” he asks, cupping Keith’s face in his hands again. His eyes dart to the gauze patch stuck to Keith’s forehead--luckily he hadn’t needed stitches, although it had been close.

“I’m okay,” Keith confirms quietly, pressing their intertwined hands to his chest. “Let’s just get out of here.”

“What did the doctor say?” Lance asks.

“It’s a concussion. I don’t have to stay overnight, but my dad has to wake me up every few hours for the next day and see how I’m doing.”

“They didn’t give you a CAT scan or anything, did they?” Lance’s hands smooth over Keith’s face, then meet at the back of his neck. Keith can feel dried sweat at the base of his hairline, but right now it’s the least of his worries.

“No,” he answers, shaking his head slowly so he won’t make himself sick again. “It wasn’t that serious.”

“I’m glad,” Lance sighs, sagging with relief. “I was so worried about you. How are you feeling?”

“Better. I mean, it still hurts, but I’m not as nauseous and stuff.”

“Did they give you medicine?”

“Tylenol,” Keith says. “I’m not allowed to take aspirin.”

Keith’s eyes dart around the room self-consciously, remembering where he is. “Can we go home now? Please?”

“Yeah, of course,” Lance agrees easily, turning them towards the exit. “So are you allowed to come to school tomorrow?”

Keith nods, frowning a little. “They wanted me to stay home, but I should be fine to go if I take it really easy.”

“No, babe, you’ve gotta stay home and rest up!” Lance exclaims.  _ Ow, _ Keith thinks. His voice is still loud. “I don’t want you to get worse and have to come back.”

“That’s not such a bad idea,” Keith’s dad agrees, following the two of them towards the parking lot. “Take a day off, Keith. I’m sure your teachers will understand.”

“I don’t…”

“I’ll take notes for you,” Lance promises. “And Hunk and Pidge will, too. It won’t hurt to take a break once in a while--especially after this.”

Keith sighs, shaking his head. The dizziness has gone down a lot since his dad picked them up, but his head still feels heavy and slow. “I just want tomorrow to be normal,” he says quietly, refusing to acknowledge the tremble in his voice.

But he knows tomorrow won’t be normal. His head will hurt and he’ll be slow and out of focus, and he won’t be able to stop thinking about clean white hospital rooms, faceless doctors, and his mom’s voice echoing down the hallway, like it’s chasing after him and it will never stop.

“Okay,” Lance agrees softly, his tone confused and understanding at the same time. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Keith repeats.

But it’s not.

* * *

 

_ 9:19 pm _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: Hey _

_ Cryptid-Keith: Hey. _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: Aren’t you supposed to stay off your phone? _

_ Cryptid-Keith: You texted me. _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: Still _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: How are you holding up? _

_ Cryptid-Keith: Fine, I guess. _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: Head still hurt? _

_ Cryptid-Keith: Yeah. _

_ Cryptid-Keith: Concussions will do that to you. _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: Yeah… _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: So, I wondered if you wanted to talk about it? _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: The hospital and all _

_ Cryptid-Keith: Not really. _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: You sure? _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: You were pretty freaked out back there _

_ Cryptid-Keith: I’m alright. _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: You know I wouldn’t judge you if you wanted to talk about it, right? _

_ Cryptid-Keith: I know. _

_ Cryptid-Keith: Can we not talk about this right now? _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: Oh, sure _

_ Cryptid-Keith: Thank you. _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: Yeah, of course _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: Actually I have to go now, anyway _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: Homework _

_ Cryptid-Keith: Alright. _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: Stay off your phone, alright? _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: Don’t hurt yourself more _

_ Cryptid-Keith: Okay. _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: Are you sure you’re alright? _

_ Cryptid-Keith: Yes, Lance. _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: Okay, I guess _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: So I’ll see you tomorrow? _

_ Cryptid-Keith: See you tomorrow. _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: Rest up _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: Everything will be back to normal soon _

_ Cryptid-Keith: Thanks, Lance. _

_ Dancing-Bi-Myself: Goodnight _

_ Cryptid-Keith: Goodnight. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Sorry this update to the series took so long. I've been working on another big project coming out later this year ;)  
> [The Unknown Playlist (so far)](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLBBc7CFbDhidiABhPuvtHGI9p-kx5Rk1G)


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